


Shattered Dreams

by MysticWaters



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Derealization, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, c!Dream has DID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWaters/pseuds/MysticWaters
Summary: "A spiral, down down down.Three times down, three times over, three lives for each one, three hearts, three friends, three people, threes, threes…Muddled and jumbled and wrong, this is so so very wrong, why is it wrong? Why is it so wrong-"After years of dormancy Daydream is pushed to the front as a last defense against the demon that controlled the body for so long.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	Shattered Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Questions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113224) by [a_little_hazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_little_hazy/pseuds/a_little_hazy). 



> Hiiiii I’m back! :P Trust me when I tell y’all that I have been wanting to write this for a LONG time. This was inspired by a fic that I read previously, and I’ll find the link and post that as a comment (or Mystic can post it in the notes). Definitely check it out, it’s really good. This is basically just my version of the Daydream AU, so there will probably be some aspects that are pretty similar to other written works of this. Also- you’ll notice that I use it/it’s pronouns for the being (kind of a spoiler, but I wanted to clear this up). This is NOT meant to be dehumanizing in any way, shape, or form. It and it’s are forms of neopronouns, at least in this story. Adding onto that- the main inhabitant (the teenager) that I am talking about it using he/they pronouns. That might be confusing for some people as well, but I wish you all you luck in keeping track with it XD. If anyone wants to give any constructive criticism or suggestions for future fics, I’m always open to new ideas. Thanks! - KitKat

** Awakening **

A splash of water, and it’s knees buckle under the sudden weight of standing. It trips forward, banging it’s shins against the edges of the hole, and splinters of pain ricochet up it’s legs. An upward curl of the lip as it steps out of the shallow pool of water, really just a puddle at this point. So much had already been splashed out of the hole… it might even start taking damage soon with so little remaining. 

A camera, far above it’s reach, blinks from the ceiling. A grin, a wave, and the being turns around, walking directly into the bubbling sheets of lava pouring from the ceiling. At the very edge of it’s last lucid thoughts, it can hear annoyed shouting from what it assumed to be the guard room. ‘You see Sam?’ It thought, as the blistering pain starts to set in from the shock of the heat. ‘I _am_ in control.’ 

The world doesn’t fade out, no. The being disappears from the world, but the world clings to it’s mind until the last second. The unnatural death seizing through its muscles, causing burning to explode from every part of its body until it feels covered in layers of pain, laid heavy upon it. It has lost track of how many times it has done this, but the amount is enough that the immense pain has become like a blanket- secure and comforting. It is used to this, it _needs_ this. It needs this small piece of control, of power… 

But the body isn’t used to it. The body is tired, it’s so very tired of plunging into wave after wave of pain, the orange and golds of the lava creating dull pounding at the back of it’s eyes, remaining even after they’re closed. It is tired of standing, not being given a chance to lay down and sleep for weeks now. It is tired of nights spent hurling itself into pulsing liquid heat, going against every survival skill that it had ever known. The body is in pain, the being is in pain, and all that either wants to do is go away. The body? Not fully able to, unfortunately. The being, however… now that can be arranged. 

Against its will? Certainly. The being doesn’t _want_ to rest, it wants to keep going, keep hurting. But the body just… can’t take it any longer. There is no possible way for it to survive if it doesn’t stop, so the body does the only thing it can do. 

Right in the space between lava and rebirth, in that moment of darkness and uncertainty when all the feeling leaves and you think ‘maybe this time it doesn’t work’, the body’s defences leap into action. It pushes against the being, unlatching it’s grip on the front of it’s mind. The being pushes back, naturally, but the body is used to this. It has had to be for the past six years now, and it has built up enough of a resistance to at least fight back. For so long it has been dormant, letting the being control it despite how revolting every action performed was. It almost didn’t have enough strength, almost let the being overtake it once again, but fight or flight reflexes kicked in. This body would _die_ if the being wasn’t pushed away, this body would never wake again if the pain and exhaustion continued. 

Finally, inch by inch, the being was pushed back. After remaining in control for so long, it had been buried alive within the holes of the body’s mind. The being would be back, all the body’s inhabitants knew this. But for now… for now the body was empty. It could not respawn without a user at it’s mindfront, and the being was the only one that had taken control of the front for years now. Was anyone else even there anymore? 

The being knew what had happened. As much as it wanted to inflict pain (not always on itself, either), it knew that the body couldn’t die like this. No no, it hadn’t completed its objectives yet. It still had so much to do… the body couldn’t die. The being’s form was far too weak to take hold of the mindfront again, but perhaps… perhaps another could do. Just for a little while… just until it gets its strength back. 

The being reaches its tendrils into the deepest holes of the mind, searching for the most manageable inhabitant. It can’t choose one that is too strong, the being might never be able to take the front again. But if it chooses one that’s too weak… the body could simply keel over and die. Searching… searching… searching… 

It finds something. The first inhabitant. Strong enough to keep the body alive, sure. It had managed that for the first 15 years, had it not? But weak enough to be thrust away once the being was ready to return, certainly. It is still a teenager, after all. It has nowhere _near_ the strength that the being has.

If the being could sigh, it would. Were there really no better options? A _teenager_? Apparently not, the being couldn’t find the perfect balance of strength and weakness anywhere else. The being retracts it’s reach, preparing whatever force it has left and flinging it forwards. 

Dragging, scraping, pulling, tearing, ripping, the being does whatever it can to _get the child to the front_. The body itself has gone almost completely unresponsive. Without anyone in the mind-front, it merely exists. Time has stopped making sense, it may have been anywhere from a few days to a number of seconds since the body had pushed away the being, and why would it matter anyways? It’s not like the body would be missed… what was even the point of trying to respawn? 

But the being shakes against these thoughts. It knows that the body’s other inhabitants are pressing these thoughts into the being's conscious, and it knows that it is the being’s fault that the inhabitants think this way. It knows, it knows, it _knows._ But it doesn’t need this right now. For the teenager to come into the mind-front successfully, the other inhabitants have to be silent. And although now they are loud and insistent, soon they will tire themselves out. Any moment. 

Then- there! A lull in the droning. The initial push that the being gave got the child close enough to the mind-front that they could almost reach, but the other inhabitants were so, so loud. Now that they had finally quieted down, if only for a moment, the being could finish the job.

Like a breath held too long underwater, the remaining shove forward comes out weak and shaky. The being is already so tired… 

At first, it appears that nothing happens. With a sinking feeling, the being believes that it has failed. The body will simply stay despawned forever, absent from it’s world. Then, the teenage inhabitant reaches forward. Somehow, they sensed that they were needed, they pulled their meager form through and into the front, and they were there. 

They existed.

They were known.

The being closed its eyes, craving rest no matter how much it denied.

The teenager opened his eyes, lungs being full for the first time in years. 

This feeling that they had missed, this… experience of life.

He had begun to think that it no longer existed. 

Light… existed. Or was this dark? It was hard to tell, hard to differentiate after being at the intersection of both and neither for so long.

What happened? How… _how_ was this happening? He thought that he had stopped existing… he thought that they were not a part of the body anymore. Muddled thoughts… muddled thoughts… 

Their head spun, and the child didn’t dare to move. Not that he even still knew how… 

Darkness encroached on their vision. Was he going back? He wanted to go back so badly… please let this strange feeling leave. 

His eyes closed once more, hoping to welcome the darkness more fully. ‘Past this and I will go to the colorless place’, they thought. ‘Past this and I will not have to be’. They felt it coming, creeping closer… just a little more and they could go back. 

Then, a hand. A hand? Gripping it’s arm. What strange texture… a hand? No no no… a glove. Yes, a gloved hand. Smooth and well-worn but creased and lined, crinkled into humanoid-like features. What- why was this here? Was he doing this? No no no… he didn’t move. Did he? No, no he didn’t. 

The hand tensed… the _glove_ tensed. The teenager almost whimpered, almost let a sound out of his mouth. Or… or did they? Was that a sound that came from them? Was that their voice? No no… it couldn’t be. They remember how they sound… do they? Yes. They do. But that… was a sound that came from their thoughts. No… no that _couldn’t_ be his voice. That couldn’t be real, that shouldn’t be real- 

A spiral, down down down. 

Three times down, three times over, three lives for each one, three hearts, three friends, three people, threes, threes… 

Muddled and jumbled and wrong, this is so so very wrong, why is it wrong? _Why is it so wrong-_

“Dream?”

**Author's Note:**

> The portrayal of anything DID related may not be entirely accurate as neither K nor I have DID. However, we are always open for feedback on how to improve on it and if there's ever anything offensive please tell us and we will revise to get rid of it! Hope you enjoyed and we're excited to see where we can take this AU! <3  
> It should also be mentioned that the Dreamon is not part of the Dream system it is its own separate being. It does however know about the system and often uses the system's trauma to its advantage to take over.  
> \- Mystic <3  
> p.s. If you guys like this and want to see it I would really like to write this from Sam's perspective =P


End file.
